Gold Rush
Exhausted Teller "Again..." A voice could be heard in the small bedroom, panting repeatedly. The male's voice gave signs of extreme exhaustion, and he was on the verge of collapse. But he held himself up on his bedside draw, revealing his right arm made of pure . "Again...they just keep using me..." He coiled the golden arm into a fist, and punched the nearby wall. The impact reverberated through the room, and a hole was made into the wall, as if a mold of his fist was made. "I'm going to fuckin' kill those cheap once and for all! I'm tired of this shit! I'm a human being, not a gold mine!" The young man shouted loud, for the world to hear. But nobody was there. It was only him and his thoughts, alone, in his home...for the last time. ---- Away from his residence, on the port of Sonasar, was a youthful man with shaggy black hair, tanned skin, and an outfit very similar to the Swashbucklers seen in theatre. Dravolos Ashraf, a jeweler by trade, now sought to head out to sea in the tumultuous . "Just watch me." Ashraf spoke boldly, "I'll remove those gods from the sky, and I'll finally be able to kill two birds with one stone." He stared at his right arm, which had been completely covered by his shirt's sleeve and a pitch black glove. "Yeah, that's right. Merchants will finally be able to live in peace..." He clenched his fist once again, and the sound of gold rattling could be heard by those who passed by him. "But the important thing is I'll be a human again, not some gold mine!" Ashraf declared his intentions to the very world and skies above, as he climbed aboard the ship that would take him to his first destination. The Summit of Mercenaries: Sellsword. Loyalty, At What Price? The travelling yacht had arrived at Sellsword. It was a cruise ship of decent size, and was only meant to circle around Sellsword before leaving. Why was Sellsword, a hub of mercenaries, considered to be a tourist attraction? Well, anyone who saw the island would be able to tell you. Titanic statues of warriors who have long passed, but were praised for their legendary prowess, were erected on the corners of this island. Among the figures, Ashraf could personally identify only a few. The first was the newly created statue of Kenway Stalkman, a legendary warrior giant; Vryrch Seth, the former Captain of the Hunting Pirates, a woman whose power surpassed the Yonko, and finally, Dravolos Zahir, the ancestor of the Dravolos Family who had long faded into the obscurity of history books. A man who was said to have conquered much of the world before finally being killed by his own children...a warrior without equal. "Lord Zahir...I promise, I'll take down the heavens that were built after your death. Like you, I'll make sure we give back to the people..." Ashraf muttered to himself, looking upon the statue of Zahir. Even from a distance, rust and cracking was evident and the statue itself was poorly maintained. Yet to Ashraf, standing through the cracks and rust showed a strength unlike the other statues. To him, his ancestor was the mightiest warrior known to the land and sea. ---- As they had reached the port of the island, Ashraf was the only man to get off. Technically, this ship did not get off at Sellsword. However, Ashraf had specifically paid the crew extra to make sure he got off. After all, without a proper contact, one could not reach Sellsword by conventional travel. That being said, Ashraf's surplus of wealth was definitely handy in securing him connections. As he stood on the port, he looked over at the bustling island. Traders, mentors, mercenaries and a whole number of other individuals with less-than-model occupations made their home on this island. In their own way, they were working hard to pave their own future, even if it meant that they needed to delve into the blood-stained sea to do so. Ashraf walked forward on the port, where a magnificent entrance was staged. It was a large gate, made out of three gigantic broadswords. One placed at the left, one placed on the right, and one at the top binding the two together. The door itself was made out of two shields. They did not precisely occupy the space between the two sword lengths, but what they added was an incomparable look to the island. Despite its unsavory reputation, Sellsword made a point to look the absolute best it could. Ashraf entered the large island. All around him he could see weapons, gruff sellswords, exclusive machinery and various other things that lived within the trade of being a mercenary. It was a haven for those who lived off of conflict. Conversely, this was hell for those who had never entered conflict. In truth, the newly rebelling Ashraf found this place overwhelming. There was a lot he didn't know, and a lot he wanted to know. At the same time, Ashraf couldn't afford to be overwhelmed. There was a task he needed to accomplish, and he would do anything to perform it. There was only one man that was a constant within this continuous flow of people that walked through the streets. He was a green-haired man, in military attire, and a sword at his waist. He was underneath a sign that read "Welcome Committee", so Ashraf figured that the first place to go was him. The newcomer to Sellsword reached the man's makeshift booth, and was immediately noticed by the man. The green-haired man called out to him before Ashraf could utter his first words on the island. "You're a greenhorn? Where are you headed? My name is Fauntleroy Fenrich. I'll need your name too." Ashraf was partially annoyed. "Did this guy just make a joke? I mean, his hat has green horns!" However, the expression on his face was still neutral. He was a master at hiding his emotions, courtesy of his occupation, and that was true in normal social interactions as well. "I'm intending on becoming a mercenary." Ashraf lied through his teeth, but he figured that lies did not matter in a place that centered around conflict. "Where would be the best place to go? I need the best teachers possible." From underneath his left sleeve, Ashraf partially revealed a gold bar. Was it bribery? Or proof of his buying power? That would be up to Fenrich's interpretation. Fenrich wasn't an idiot, unfortunately for Ashraf. "Lying through your teeth is the first sign of a bad mercenary." Fenrich's right hand immediately touched the hilt of his sword, and an exorbitant amount of pressure released from him. Even the mercenaries who were veterans of the island gulped and stopped in their track, making way for Fenrich to perform his duties. "If you're going to lie to me, that means you'll be lying to your client...and I can't have you ruining Sellsword's reputation." Ashraf realized exactly what he did, and felt like he needed to immediately back out. He made an error of judgement and now he would regret it. But he was surrounded by the onlookers, who would refuse to let him leave. Either he stood strong against Fenrich's blade, or he would die before accomplishing anything. "Damn it..!" That man dared to even think he could escape his clutches. "Inevitable things can easily outpace escaping ones!! Guess which one we each are," Fenrich spat out at Ashraf, unsheathing his sword with a twist of his left wrist and a sharp rotation of his shoulder, he spun the blade vertically, making it seem like a full-bloom circle. Fenrich took but a bit of a sprint towards his target, after all, close combat was needed not, his sword shone while slicing through the air and produced a bit of steam. While the blade spun with the rotation of his wrist, he made sure to increase or decrease its speed in different intervals. Finally, a pressurized beam slipped out of his spinning sword once Fenrich pointed it forward, waving through the atmosphere like it bounced on solid surface. The air hissed, caught by the movement of the serpentine slash, how it glided surely made itself quite unpredictable, it sought to dodge whatever Ashraf threw at it and finally hit him head-on. Ashraf was not an experienced combatant, but if this was his first test, he would have to take it head-on without fear. He launched his left hand upwards in an attempt to block the attack, but that didn't work. The snake-like blade cut through his skin and slipped past him, attempting to reach his throat and end him in a single strike. "I WON'T LOSE!" Ashraf shouted, his pressure even causing the mercenaries of Sellsword to begin sweating. He used his free right arm and moved it through instinct alone. Before the sword could pierce through his neck, Ashraf grabbed a hold of it with his right hand, grasping onto it so tightly that the sound of metal clashing with metal rung through the atmosphere. "Don't underestimate the Cobra's Poison!" Fenrich shouted, as from the collision of blades, an overwhelming blast of pressure released from the blade. The build-up from Fenrich's rotation of the blade through its unsheathing came to fruition, and the razor-sharp air pressure sought to cut through Ashraf's entire body and leave him a bloody mess lying on the ground. But something was off. Fenrich noticed it immediately. The hand that caught his blade had not been imbued with Haki, then how did flesh and blood manage to grasp his blade?! Especially of a man that had no combat experience?! "...Fuckin' hell." Ashraf cursed. He took the slashes head on, but the sound that was made from the collisions were not of skin being ripped apart and blood being dripped to the ground. No...it was almost as if Fenrich's blade was clashing with another weapon. Slash after slash overwhelmed Ashraf, but he didn't move. The only blood that dropped from Ashraf's body was from the hand that had been cut earlier. When the veil of slashes finally opened, Fenrich and the mercenaries of Sellsword had been shocked. Instead of a human covered in blood, what they found was...a statue made from pure gold!? Yes, the gold had been ripped apart by Fenrich's incredible strength, but ultimately, whatever he did was meaningless. "A Logia..? No, this bastard is an ACE holder!" Fenrich growled, he was about to prepare another slash, but Ashraf gripped his sword so tightly that he wasn't able to move it without it snapping into two. "Listen to me." Ashraf said with a tone of authority. Even the other mercenaries that intended on attacking him stopped right in his path. "You want to know the truth? Fine. I intend on completely crushing the World Nobles beneath my feet. I'm going to be a Pirate that razes through the sea, and will become your enemy in the future. If you honor strength and truth, then let me find a mentor. Otherwise I'll fuck off, and never come back here again. What do you want me to do, 'greenhorn'?" Ashraf's eyes held a resolve that Fenrich had rarely seen. Most of the mercenaries that came here only stayed to earn easy money by joining up with larger groups. This man intended on causing a change to this world. Fenrich smirked, "I'd love to let you through, but you're grabbing onto my blade, you know?" Ashraf had been acknowledged. Although the top half of his clothes were ripped to shred, and he panted excessively from the pressure he had just dealt with, he had managed to overcome his first obstacle. Even as the mercenaries surrounding the two men began to leave, whispers of his feats were traveling across Sellsword fast. He let go of the sword, like Fenrich asked. "I didn't catch your name?" Fenrich asked the man, now genuinely curious about him. "Dravolos Ashraf." He responded cheerfully, "The man who's going to wear the world's crown!" Fenrich chuckled, "Cobububu. Good luck with that. The people who you're looking for are north, on the 'Hell's Classroom' route." Ashraf nodded, and set off on his path. Fenrich looked at him once again. His build was average, with lean muscle here and there. But more than physical strength, he had an absurd amount of resolve. He then looked at his blade, and noticed the place that was gripped had almost been completely bent inwards, looking like a pipe. "I wonder how far he'll get." Gold Rush Category:Ash9876 Category:DamonDraco Category:GeminiVIII Category:Ninshū Category:Lemasters30 Category:Starving Skeleton